Chocolate and Hot Tamales
by Silania
Summary: Short and sweet and fluffy. Sort of angsty at the beginning. Hakkai hates rainy nights, so does Gojyo. Their dislike brings them together in passionate... I'll stop there. SLASH {HakkaiGojyo} Non-graphic, more shounen-ai than anything. Review, s'il vous p


Title: Chocolate and Hot Tamales

Author: Silania

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki. Damn, I wish I did though! RAWR! That would've meant Gojyi in my bed every night. Whoops. Too much info.

Warning: Slash

Author's Note: Gojyo – Hot Tamales, Hakkai – Chocolate, Sanzo – Lemon Drops, Goku – Pixy Sticks XDDD Yes, I think of them in terms of candy. No, I don't know how this came about. There's just something so lemony (not in that sense of the term, pervert) about Sanzo.

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Chocolate and Hot Tamales - how sweet one tasted, how spicy the other; together, they are the perfect combination. And so it was, like nearly every other night that red met brown and red met green. Body met body met muscle met lips in a dance too tangled, too frenzied, too anxious to result in anything other than fast, hard fucking.

It had started, as most of these types of things start, with glances over breakfast, lunch and dinner. Glances that meant more than, "He is so obnoxious," or, "That fan hurts like a mother fucker." A certain understanding established, the first step to cautious kisses. Which in turn were the first steps to sex. Perhaps it was simply a mutual feeling they shared, some comprehension of each other's character, but nothing so complex as love. Nothing with that many nuances, that many little tiny steps to follow through with. It was a simple waltz, that of two students who constantly step on each other's toes. Nothing so complicated as a ballet. One, two, three. Glance, kiss, fuck.

It had started on a rainy night, when one was seeking comfort and the other was only so willing to give it. After all, red was the color of passion, sex and blood; and brown-green, how chaotic beneath, how tranquil on the surface. Red had liked that in him, when they had first met, there had been some spark of interest that was beyond simple admiration of a stunning figure.

On rainy nights Hakkai remembered; and he did not want to remember. It seemed, however, that this journey was one constant grey cloud overhead. Never ending, eternal, torturous. So after those first few glances shared over food, he came with a gentle rat-a-tat-tat at the door, quiet as the rain pattering on windows and roof. Half hoping he would not be heard, half hoping that he would be sent back to bed depressed and unsatisfied, but nevertheless spared the later repercussions.

When the door opened, those thoughts were blown away by a vision of red hair mussed, red eyes wide-awake, partially fearful, and nothing but a pair of loose pajama bottoms on. A hand now devoid of that one item so typical of Gojyo – his cigarette – beckoning the slightly shorter man inside the room. There was silence, dead quiet, comfortable, with only the melodic interruption of rain drops still bouncing off the glass.

One hand traced a jaw clenched tight and nervous, red eyes turning to meet green at the touch. Millimeters left between them, breathing the same air, surviving off each other's body heat; both too wary to go the final distance, close that tiny field in between.

In the end it was the chocolate that melted forward, lips closing upon lips in a kiss tender and soft, but not chaste. No, their kisses could never be chaste. Their pasts forbade that certain carelessness. Their mingled futures promised raw passion and biting winds.

When they broke apart Hakkai could taste spice on his lips, mingled with the flavor of tobacco and beer. Gojyo could taste the bitter sweetness of dark chocolate and rain. The second time, it was he that dove in for another kiss – this one frenzied, forceful, searching for comfort. He wished that he could simply climb into Hakkai's mouth, down his esophagus and into his stomach. It would make a comfortable, safe nest.

Slowly, they made their way to the bed, brown over red, straddling slim hips and taking teasing moments to trace tangled paths across the redhead's chest. Gojyo's hands, of course, reciprocated, fingers clutching at narrow sides and smoothing over the jagged scar that spanned half the other man's stomach beneath his shirt. It took seconds to divest his new found comfort of said garment, the item tossed somewhere underfoot.

Once more they separated, green meeting crimson in a gaze that spoke of fathomless pain. As teeth and tongue descended to throat and hands found two pairs of pajama bottoms, this emotion faded. When they fucked, slowly and tenderly, the understanding that existed revealed itself. Golden rays shone through the rain as both reached orgasm within seconds of each other.

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When Gojyo woke, there was no rain any longer. In its place there was sunshine and chocolate on his lips. There was green and brown blurring his vision. The first words uttered between them from that moment last night were caressing and silky smooth.

"I think… I think I love you."

A velvety kiss to the tip of his nose forced him to revel in these new depths.

"Gojyo." Slight confusion as he said the name, it was not the one that should have come from his lips, "You are my sugar and spice and everything nice. Like a Hot Tamale. You are my spicy candy."

Through the room, a content murmur sounded, the redhead cuddled closer. Who would've thought? Gojyo, a cuddler.

"Lets do this again sometime, chocolate."

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Silania: And there we have it. I know it sucks near the end, but I got lazy. Please forgive me and review.

Farf: Am I your muse for this too?

Silania: Pshaw, naw. This is crap, your stuff is, must I say, brilliant.

Farf: Either way, reviews hurt God. Please review, it will make God cry, I guarantee it.


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